


Spare Me Your Theories

by ot5cuddles



Series: Spare Me Your Theories [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Psychic Abilities, Snapchat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:15:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ot5cuddles/pseuds/ot5cuddles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry’s kinda creepy and Louis’ kinda confused, especially when there’s snapchat (and psychic abilities) involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spare Me Your Theories

**Author's Note:**

> i never expected anyone to read this so thank you guys for the feedback :)

It’s Louis favourite kind of day - mid-winter, cold, blowing wind and soft, fluffy snowflakes flying through the biting chill of the air. It’s the kind of day he used to love to spend tobogganing on big hills as a child, cheeks going rosy and legs going numb.

Instead, he’s twenty-two and this beautiful day is being wasted in a college library.

Louis isn’t usually so observant, especially when he’s in the zone. And he’s in the zone right now, sitting here diligently doing all he can to finish his damn essay. Well, he would be if there wasn’t currently a pair of freaky eyes following his every move from across the work table. They belonged to a guy that Louis’ never seen before, which isn’t that weird since he can count his friends on one hand and he doesn’t really care about anyone else.

“Got a problem, there?” Louis’ says, looking up, his accusing eyes boring into the forehead of the guy who seemed to have been looking his way for the past ten minutes.

The guy, finally coming to his senses, shifted uncomfortably in his seat across from Louis and looked down at the table, his hands hidden somewhere below. “No, I don’t, I was just…sorry, I was thinking, I just…sorry.” He sounded so awkward and stuttery, like speaking in public to a complete stranger was giving him chest pain. Louis winced in sympathy.

“Alright, whatever, don’t hurt yourself. You just looked a little bit lost,” he said, trying not to sound like a dick. He hoped he hadn’t come off that way before. Louis couldn’t help being forward and outspoken, it was just how he was and Lord knows he’s lost a few potential friends because of it.

Anyway.

Louis gave the (now blushing) guy a sympathetic look as he went back to his work, typing away at his laptop. He had a paper on something or other by Shakespeare due in a week and he wanted to get it over with before the weekend so he didn’t have to spend his time either stuffed up in his room or in this dingy library working. He wanted to have fun.

He hasn’t had fun in way too long, is the thing. This semester has been a heavy one and between all the essays, papers and exams he’s had to write and study for, Louis hasn’t had a second of time to just relax and do what he wants. But now it’s the beginning of December and Christmas break is in just a few weeks, along with his birthday, and he’s just focusing on getting all his shit done in order to have a clear schedule in the days before and during the break.

Picking up his phone in a moment of distraction when he feels he can’t possibly write another word about similes and metaphors and iambic pentameter, Louis sees he’s gotten a snapchat. He smiles a bit and unlocks his phone, clicking on the app icon to open it. He clicks on the snap from his roommate Liam and Louis’ brow furrows as a picture of himself sitting right where he is, taken from somewhere behind him in the library fills his screen. Over the picture is a caption that reads: _workin hard or hardly workin eh m8?_

Smirking, Louis turns around with the intentions of spotting Liam (who must think he is _so clever_ ) behind him, but the sudden, jerking movement of Louis twisting in his chair causes his arm to hit his starbucks cup full of lukewarm chai latte, the cup crashing down across the table and the frothy, milky liquid splashing everywhere and soaking through a pile of papers that belong to the weird staring kid from across the table. Louis swears he can hear Liam’s laughter from somewhere across the room as his cheeks flare up with colour.

“Shit,” is all Louis says as he just stares at the mess, mouth agape. “I’m sorry, man. Like, I’m really sorry. I’m such a clumsy bastard, I swear I need to get myself a leash or something, I mean shit, all your notes…sorry.”

The boy shrugs, staring at his soiled papers, but he seems a bit unattached from the whole thing. “S’alright. Accidents happen. It is what it is, right?” At that, the boy looks up at Louis with a hint of mischief in his eyes, the facial expression completely different from the one he had but a moment ago when Louis was completely (yet totally not purposely) sabotaging his class notes.

Louis only nods, the tips of his ears going hot as he scrambles to gather the now empty beverage cup as well as the guy’s soggy notes. He stands and quickly ambles to a garbage bin by a bookcase ten feet away to toss the cup before returning and shaking the notes out a bit, wetness flying off in all directions. “There,” Louis murmurs, a bit embarrassed and a tad confused. “Good as new. I’m sorry, again," he sputters out uselessly. The boy looks up at him as Louis offers the notes back in his outstretched hand. “Sorry, I just…sorry."

“It’s okay, Louis.”

Louis drops his hand slowly. “What.”

It’s not question. He’s not really sure what to say, so he just says the first word that comes to his mind.

“I said, it’s okay,” the boy clarifies quickly, a deer-in-the-headlights look suddenly back in his wide, starry eyes. They remain transfixed on Louis, looking almost scared or anxious, nervous even.

Louis brow furrows. “No, no, not that…I mean…I’ve never met you before, or even seen you before, so how could you…” he trails off.

The boy only smirks weirdly once again. “No worries. It is what it is."

Louis squints his eyes in nervous confusion before relaxing them. “Alright then. I’ll just be…going? Here’s your notes, but I reckon they’ll smell a bit funky after this whole episode,” he manages to spit out before walking back to his side of the table, gathering his laptop and notebook in his messenger bag, pocketing his phone and booking it out of the library.

His phone vibrates like a demon in his pocket once he’s walking safely away from the vicinity of the campus library. He hefts his bag farther over his shoulder and reaches for his phone, pulling it out and seeing four new messages from Liam. He opens the messages as his cheeks flush from the cold weather around him. 

hahahaa, did i scare u punk? lol (5:21pm)

oh shit man wtf just happened over there (5:24pm)

youre such a doofus mate i swear lol (5:26pm)

where r u goin?? (5:34pm)

Louis texts back quickly, his fingers slowly going rigid in the cold.

don’t have a fit, meet you back home in ten and i’ll explain (5:38pm)

He’s lost all feeling in his hands from the biting wind and he briefly wonders where his gloves have gone. He could’ve sworn he had them when he left his flat this morning but he quickly shrugs it off. Louis pockets his phone and walks along the campus, his nose and cheeks going rosy, watching as the remaining daylight quickly drains from the sky and it is overtaken by silky blue darkness. He likes this time of year, drinks the cold weather up like he would a cup of hot tea. He has always loved fall and winter and he doesn’t know why. Something about the coldness making everyone more snuggly and cuddly (because Louis has always been a cuddler) and wearing big jumpers everywhere, the kind that you have to bunch around your elbows or else the sleeves will fall over your hands.

He leaves the campus and in around ten minutes he reaches his building, going inside and stomping the snow off his shoes on the stairs and in the hallway before reaching his door. It’s unlocked and Liam’s already there, his jacket, bag and various books strewn about the living room and his feet up on the arm of the tiny couch. “Get on in out of the cold, my son!” He yells and Louis can only shake his head fondly at his choice of friends.

“I regret living with you,” he retorts, kicking Liam’s backpack out of the way as he takes off his jacket and shoes.

Liam laughs, crossing his legs and putting his arms behind his head. “You chose it, kid.”

Louis scoffs as he enters the living area and plops down beside Liam. “Yeah, I s’pose I did. But how did you get here before me?”

“I ran very fast. I’ve been running lately,” Liam says seriously. “So,” he begins, changing the subject and popping open an abandoned coke that had probably been sitting on the coffee table for a few days now. “What in the world did you do to Harry back there in the library?” 

“What? You know the creepy kid?” Louis is appalled.

Liam looks innocently at him. “Yeah, sort of, I thought you did too!”

Louis shakes his head and thinks back to how, not 20 minutes ago, he’d been sitting peacefully and working on his homework, just like any other normal uni student, until he’d gotten the snapchat that had messed everything up. “Well, Liam, technically it _was_ your fault,” Louis blames, pointing an accusing finger at his friend who is sipping that coke like there’s no tomorrow.

Liam looks appalled. “What? How was it my fault that you’re a klutz?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You sent me that stupid snapchat and I turned around to look for you so I could yell at you for being creepy. So when I turned, I guess I knocked my drink over - that I had to walk a full _thirty-five minutes_ off-campus to get, by the way.” He adds that part in to make himself sound more pathetic, so that Liam will feel bad and take the blame for ruining his night. “And yeah, my latte spilled everywhere, all over that weird ‘Harry’ kid’s notes. But hey, that’s not the best part,” he pauses, throwing gestures for emphasis. “So I go to apologize and this kid already _knows my name_ .”

Liam stares at him, his coke in hand, frozen between his mouth and his lap. “Come again?”

“You heard me.”

Liam makes a face. “You don’t know him?”

“Nope,” says Louis with another head shake.

Liam cocks his head to the side. “You’re really sure you don’t know him?”

“I think I’d remember! He’s got these eyes,” Louis squints, recalling the events. “They’re so big and bright and glassy and kinda creepy. I’d definitely remember him, I know I will now.” He sighs. “Plus, he had been staring at me, like, the whole time I was there. He was so weird.”

Liam laughs a bit. “You mean, he didn’t get mad when you spilled your latte all over his stuff?”

Louis scoffs, annoyed. “No, he didn’t, he was all, ‘it’s okay, it is what it is’, and I can’t believe that’s all you’re getting from this, and-” Louis trails off and in the next second, his eyes widen with realization.

“Louis? Mate? You alright?” Liam asks, waving his free hand across Louis’ line of vision.

Louis whimpers, “It is what it is.”

“Huh?” Liam asks, furrowing his brow.

Louis hikes his jumper up to his chin, looking down to point the attention at his chest. “Look, you know. My tattoo,” he says, as if that offers any kind of explanation to Liam. He stares at the swirly black letters, it is what it is, inked onto Louis’ skin, reading them over and over as if they’re a puzzle to be solved. “I don’t get it,” he says finally. Louis huffs.

“The weird curly kid named Harry. He was all, ‘it is what it is’, but he kept saying it, and he said it in a creepy way, like a sly way, like he knows about my tattoo.” Louis stares at Liam, waiting for him to agree.

But Liam only stares back for a few moments before throwing his head back in laughter as Louis lowers his jumper back down. “Now you’re just being paranoid, Lou, come on.”

“Am not! It’s creepy!” Louis tries to argue his point but Liam is too busy laughing. Really, really hard.

“I’m sure it was just a coincidence,” Liam says through hiccuping laughter.

Louis groans. “I have a stalker, Liam.”

“No you don’t.”

He buries his face into his hands. “I have a fucking stalker.”

After a minute, both the boys go silent for a beat, Louis lifting his face and playing with his own fingers in his lap and Liam resuming the sipping of his coke. Finally, he speaks. “Sorry about sending you the snapchat, then.”

Louis nods his acceptance of the apology, wriggling his bum so that he’s nestled into Liam’s side, the boy’s arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Poor little Lou. So clumsy.”

Louis looks up at him. “It was your fault.”

“Okay,” Liam laughs, giving in.

Everything is calm for a second before Louis feels rather than hears his phone vibrate in his pocket, where it’s smushed in between the two of them. He reluctantly lets go of the warm body beside him and reaches for the device, clicking the home button and unlocking it so that he can see what notification he’s gotten. Liam watches over his shoulder as Louis sees it’s a snapchat notification. He opens the app and sees:

greeneyedmonster

added you - click to add

He makes a confused face, because he’s not sure who that username could belong to, and besides, he’s already got most of his friends on snapchat anyways, so who could that be? But something in him, the adventurous, chance-taking side of him forces his finger to hit the screen and accept the mysterious friend request.

Liam makes a bored noise and chugs the rest of the coke before saying, “What is it?”

Louis shakes his head incredulously, tilting his phone screen to show Liam the username. “Who is this?”

Liam glances at the screen and then looks up at Louis, his expression just a little bit guilty. Louis glares at him. “Liam,” he says sternly in his tone of voice that means _you better tell me what it is you know before I murder you._ Liam sighs.

“Don’t hate me, Lou. I thought you knew him,” is all Liam says before Louis is laughing humorlessly.

He gasps for air and says, between breaths, “Oh god, Liam. Don’t tell me this-” he waves his phone around crazily, “-is that freaky Harry character trying to snapchat me.”

“He asked me for your snapchat today, after you left the library. But in my defence I thought you guys were friends,” he says dryly, crushing the now empty coke can between his fingers.

Louis scoffs. “Tell me Liam,” he says, voice dripping with sarcastic attitude. “If I already knew him, why would he need to ask you for my snapchat?” He scans his friend’s face until it falls and Liam truly looks guilty now.

“I’m sorry, Lou.”

“Yeah, you should be.” He locks his phone and sets it down on the table, deciding that for now all he needs it a good movie, some pizza and a cuddle with Liam, even if Liam is the biggest doofus to ever walk the earth.

—————————-

The next day, Louis sleeps in since he doesn’t have classes until the afternoon. It’s Wednesday and Louis smiles when he sees that the sun’s come out as he cracks his eyes open at 11:26am. His stomach grumbles and he silently wishes for a plate of bacon and blueberry pancakes to appear at his bedside, the kind that he gets from a little diner in town about twenty minutes away from his apartment, if he walks. But he’s got a class at one o’clock and he still has to shower and finish a bit of studying that he abandoned the night before with the ruckus that had interrupted him, so a walk to the diner is out of the question. He sighs, defeated.

“I should have gotten up earlier,” Louis moans to himself, urging his muscles out of the bed and towards his bedroom door. On the way, he clutches his phone from off the dresser. Walking through the hall and into the bathroom, he turns on the tap at the sink while checking his messages quickly before placing his phone down on the counter and grabbing his toothbrush.

He scrabbles in the cabinet for a clean, full tube of toothpaste before he finally finds one that isn’t too crusty, squeezing it forcefully in order to get a bit of the paste on his brush. Liam, who had gotten up way earlier for class, hadn’t put the cap back on and the paste around the top had crusted over. Louis makes an annoyed face as he wets the brush and begins brushing his teeth, staring at himself in the smudged mirror.

Then, his phone buzzes. He gazes down at it, his movements halting for a moment before he lets his toothbrush hang from his lips, dripping with foam, and he reaches down to grab his phone from the counter, unlocking it.

_New snap from greeneyedmonster!_

Louis groans and opens the app, holding his finger down on the new notification. A picture of a few snow-covered trees by the side of a city road in the bright sunlight fills his screen, along with the caption: _good morning_. Louis is confused until he remembers Harry’s face in the back of his mind.

After a few seconds, the picture disappears and he is brought back to the homescreen of snapchat. He double clicks the notification and quickly snaps a picture of himself, toothbrush, bedhead and all, with a slightly pissed-off expression. He doesn't bother with a caption before hitting the send button.

He finishes up his brushing before getting in the shower and quickly washing up, trying not to think about his new “friend”. Nobody he knows, none of his friends, not even Liam, texts him saying good morning or good night, it’s one of those cliche things that have never happened to him. He supposes it would be nice if someone did care enough to do that everyday, but he doesn’t really care either way since he’s a big boy and he’s used to taking care of himself. But like, hey, if Harry wants to send him good morning snaps, it’s whatever. He’s cool with it. Just as long as nothing creepy happens, it’s alright.

After his shower, Louis wanders around the flat in nothing but a towel around his hips when his phone buzzes once again from where he’s left it on the bathroom counter. The flat is so quiet he hears it all the way from the kitchen, and he nearly runs over his own feet to get to it.

Picking it up and unlocking it, Louis sees that he’s gotten yet another snap from greeneyedmonster. This time, it’s a picture of the door of his flat, with the number on the front and everything, with the caption: _come open your door_. Louis’ eyes go wide and he hobbles to the front of the flat, half-running and performing sloppy parkour over the couch to get there, his towel nearly falling off in the process.

He slowly places a hand over the door knob and turns it, pushing slightly so the door opens with a quiet squeak of the hinges. Louis half expects to see Harry standing there but the hallway is completely deserted. There is, however, a styrofoam take out box on the floor directly in front of his door. Louis cocks his head and narrows his eyes, bending to lift it up. Could be a bomb, he thinks, and he picks it up so gently you’d think he was carrying an infant, not a box of food.

Louis takes a look down the hall, first to his left then to his right, but there’s no one to be seen. So then who the hell left this here? And how did they get away so fast?

He shakes his head and retreats back into his flat, shutting the door behind him. He ambles into the living room carefully, holding the box a full arms-length away from his body just for precaution. Placing it down on the couch, he sits beside it and puts a finger under the tab, lifting it so that the top pops open. He lifts it and gasps in surprise.

In that take out box that could’ve been a bomb is the bacon and pancakes he was craving not half an hour ago.

Louis wonders how and then, as if on cue, his phone vibrates from where he’d dropped it between the couch cushions in his attempt to jump over it earlier. He picks it up and unlocks it, his breathing getting a bit harder as he does so. And lo and behold, it’s yet another snapchat from Harry, the apparent greeneyedmonster.

It’s a picture of a hand that’s making a thumbs up, a pair of brown-booted feet on the snow in the background. The caption reads: _you’re welcome, enjoy_. And Harry has also drawn a little green heart in the corner of the photo to add to the weirdness of it all.

Louis’ cheeks go hot and he throws his phone across the room, where it hits the wall and thumps onto the ground heavily. He turns and glares at the box of his favourite food, still steaming with heat and smelling delicious. But he’s not going to eat it, because he’s got no clue where it came from, or rather who it came from, and what if there’s something bad in it? Well, he does know who it came from, technically, but he still doesn’t really know Harry, and what if he’s crazy? What if Louis’ got a psycho killer stalker now? He suddenly feels very paranoid in his little flat, half naked and all alone, with someone who apparently knows where he is and what he wants to eat.

Which is _weird_.

So Louis gets up, bringing the box of food with him, and he chucks it into the garbage bin in the corner of the room, turning on his heel to get dressed for the day.

If there’s one thing Louis doesn’t need, it’s a stalker. And if there’s two things he doesn’t need, it’s a stalker who thinks they need to take care of him, too.

————-

Louis sees him again a week later when he’s is out with his little group of misfits at a pub for a laid back Friday night. It begins when he hastily grabs his phone out of his pocket when he feels it vibrate, because other than his mother, everyone who usually texts him is sitting with him at this table currently. He knows before he even sees the notification. Sighing, Louis opens snapchat.

It’s a picture of his gloves, the ones he’s been missing for a while now, and they’re being held Harry’s hand. The caption says: i think you need these back... and it’s all a little bit odd but Louis’ not here to worry and ponder over his weird stalker who has possession of his winter accessories, he’s here to get very intoxicated.

So he does, and three hours later everyone’s making arrangements to get back home. Some are taking cabs but Liam and Louis opt to walk because, well, Louis is very very drunk and though Liam is too, he’s always just a bit less drunk than Louis, so walking home shouldn’t be too much of a disaster if they’re together, looking out for one another.

When they get outside and begin walking, a strange feeling of weariness comes across Louis but he quickly shakes it off because he’s drunk and very happy. Who cares about his snapchat stalker now?

So yeah, Louis is stumbling around drunk with Liam by his side, and they’re giggling and burping and acting like fools.

“Liam, I can’t feel my feet,” Louis slurs.

“I feel ya, mate,” Liam answers, and God, they make no sense at all when they’re drunk. Louis knows this but his brain feels too cloudy to really care at the moment.

As they turn the next corner, Louis catches sight of a shadowy figure heading their way towards them on the sidewalk. As the figure approaches, Louis notices that the boots on the feet of this stranger look familiar, even to his incredibly intoxicated mind. In this hazy, giddy state Louis feels invincible, everything his mother taught him about not talking to strangers going down the toilet in the moment it takes for him to walk over to the man and just stand in front of him questioningly. The man stops dead in his tracks and that’s when Louis gets a good look at his face, now bathed in light from the streetlamp. Liam stands back, confused but still giddy.

Louis feels the colour drain from his face, because standing in front of him is Creepy Staring Kid.

“Shit,” Louis whispers, backing up. “How did you…what are doing here?”

Creepy Kid coughs. “Um, walking. Last time I checked this was a free country.”

“Yeah, but, like…are you following me?” Louis’ quickly sobering up, it seems.

Liam clears his throat. “Lou, I’m gunna go on ahead, if that’s okay?” Louis nods and Liam walks on, his breath puffing out in a cloud of vapour.

Creepy Kid smiles incredulously and looks at his feet, as if the notion of following Louis is completely preposterous. Louis notices a dimple that it set deep into Creepy Kid’s face when he smiles, and it’s almost kinda cute until Louis remembers that this kid may or may not be stalking him.

“Look, I…since you’re here, I just wanted to…to give you these,” Creepy Kid says, looking back up through his lashes at Louis, and Louis looks at his hand, which is holding out a pair of gloves. The gloves that Louis had forgotten at the library a week ago. Louis feels himself smile involuntarily and he takes the gloves from Creepy Kid, his mind swimming in conflicting emotions. He doesn’t wanna like this guy, but his gut is telling him that he isn’t a threat, that he should just go with it.

“Thanks, kid,” Louis sputters out, squishing the gloves into his pocket, looking down at Creepy Kid’s boots as he does so. Suddenly, a memory is triggered inside his mind and Louis’ feels like there’s something there he should be connecting. Then he trails his gaze up to Creepy Kid’s face and sees his big, glassy green eyes. It all fits then.

The boots. The gloves. greeneyedmonster. Harry.

Harry gives a shy little smile and turns to leave, but Louis grabs onto his arm a little spontaneously in his inebriated state. “Okay, Harry. We can be actual, non-creepy friends now, if you want. Just…stop with the freaky snapchat thing.” Maybe he is a bit weirded out by Harry, but Louis is drunk and, as was said before, he’s a very happy drunk.

Harry frowns and looks a bit hurt in that moment, but Louis is smiling so he has to smile as well. Harry looks relieved but a little bit flustered, like he’s embarrassed although he must’ve seen this confrontation coming.

Louis keeps smiling until his snail-slow synapses begin to fire off and connect more information in his brain. Harry does nothing but smile sheepishly yet knowingly and Louis is so drunk that he doesn’t even care.

————————

A couple of days later Louis is walking through campus, messenger bag slung over his shoulder and his converse shoes crunching over the snow. He’s too broke to buy actual winter boots but it’s not like he cares that much. He stops for a moment to tie up a loose shoelace and when he stands up again, there’s the shadow of a person hanging over him. He jumps and clutches his chest, heartbeat pumping with surprise. “Jesus,” he mutters as his eyes connect with the green eyes of the body in front of him.

“Hi,” is all Harry says.

Louis sighs, rolling his eyes. “Of course.”

“What?” Harry looks a bit hurt.

“You can’t keep following me around, you know,” Louis says as he sighs again, loud and drawn out. “This isn’t how you make friends.” He pushes past Harry lightly and begins to walk away but he suddenly becomes aware of Harry following close behind.

He looks over his shoulder. Harry’s brow is scrunched up and his lips are parted, like he’s thinking of what to say. “I’m not following you,” he says, sounding a bit offended. “Besides, you said,” he begins, quickly shutting his mouth and then re-opening it. “I thought we could be friends now.”

Louis stops walking and Harry nearly bashes into his back. He turns on his heel and looks up at Harry, unimpressed. “What are you talking about?”

“The other night, you said-”

He cuts him off. “Was I drunk?”

“…I-I think so,” Harry confirms.

“Then I didn’t mean it,” is all Louis says before turning again and leaving Harry alone in the snow.

The first time Louis runs into Harry (which is a switch from Harry running into Louis) he’s just walked into his favourite starbucks and he feels kind of like shit once he spots that mop of hair and those boots. Harry’s sitting in a corner booth reading a book; on the table in front of him is a steaming cup of something coffee-smelling; his face is drawn up thoughtfully and the way the light through the window falls over him turns his hair a sort of glowing bronze colour and he looks almost attractive, Louis must admit.

The thing is he’s been thinking a lot about Harry. Harry, who hasn’t sent him a single snapchat since Louis rejected him harshly a week ago. He’s not sure why he even cares that Harry hasn’t tried to talk to him at all-isn’t this what he wanted? Louis suddenly finds himself seeing Harry everywhere, every time feeling more and more guilty, wishing he could just apologise and be done with it. He hasn’t even been able to look at his gloves without remembering Harry.

So Louis decides to make nice today. Maybe then he’ll be able to forget about this weird guy who stalked him for a couple days as nothing but a strange memory to laugh at down the road.

Louis walks over to Harry bravely, putting on what he hopes is an indifferent expression. He clears his throat once he’s beside Harry’s seat. “Um, I’m sorry.”

The boy looks up suddenly and his eyes immediately soften when they come to focus on Louis.

“It’s okay.” The boy is smirking almost as if he was expecting this, but it really isn’t his fault that Louis has run into him this time so he isn’t angry or creeped out.

Louis shuffles his feet a bit, feeling kind of uncomfortable. “So, are we good then? You don’t hate me?” He’s not sure why he all of a sudden cares if Harry hates him or not, but he’s had trouble sleeping lately and he has a sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with this boy sitting here, now smiling like a fool.

“I could never hate you,” Harry assures in a sobering, serious tone, looking back to his book. “You can sit down with me if you want,” he offers without lifting his gaze from the pages.

Louis nods. “Yeah.” He plops down across from Harry. “Yeah, I will.”

And that’s that.

He’s not sure how it happens. He spends that afternoon talking to Harry, and Harry’s pretty funny, Louis decides, once you get past his creepiness. He really isn’t creepy, just maybe a bit awkward. But hey, the kid _is_ pretty cute, he has to admit.

———————

So, Louis invites Harry to hang out a few times at the library or the coffee shop or for a walk with Liam. Over the next couple weeks, they get closer and Louis is somewhat surprised to find that he actually gets on quite well with the other boy. They never run out of things to talk about and Louis wonders why he was so keen on pushing Harry away when he only wanted to be friends. They send snapchats back and forth almost constantly and it becomes their thing, sending each other funny pictures of themselves or other things they see, adding witty captions just to get a giggle from the other.

One day Louis opens his eyes and it’s Christmas break. He goes back home for the time off and celebrates with birthday and the holidays with his family, enjoying the down time. But, he notices, there’s times when he’ll see something on tv or out and about and think, _Oh, Harry would like that_ or _Harry would laugh at that, I’ll call him later and tell him about it._

Walking through his old neighbourhood one day, Louis sees a plastic santa claus on the lawn outside of a house, perched on the snow, looking creepy with most of its paint peeling off and one eyeball falling from its socket. He snaps a picture and sends it to Harry, with the caption _happy fucking christmas_ which earns him a snapchat video of Harry giggling and saying he misses him.

Louis does call Harry every couple of nights and they chat for a few hours each time, talking about nothing and everything at the same time. Louis is so confused as to how this friendship even started, it feels like a blur to him. One day he was trying to shake Harry off and the next they were inseparable. He wonders if this is what having a best friend is like, since a best friend is something he’s never really had, not even Liam understands him like Harry does. Whatever it is, it makes Louis feel fuzzy when Harry laughs at his jokes and he feels happy talking to him.

And as much as Louis has always thought he doesn’t need anyone, he will sheepishly admit that he wouldn’t want to lose Harry now.

——————-

When Harry finally tells Louis, they’re laying on Harry’s bed in the middle of watching _Bend It Like Beckham_. It began when Louis had looked over and randomly questioned how it was that Harry knew about his tattoo all those weeks ago, that day in the library. When Harry answers, barely shifting his eyes from the movie, Louis looks at him, flabbergasted. Harry says it so lightly, in passing, and Louis’ sure he’s joking, but Harry’s adamant in proving it’s true.

“Alright then _Houdini_ , what colour am I thinking of?” Louis asks once he’s done laughing, sounding more than a little bit skeptical.

Harry scoffs, rolling his eyes. “First off, Houdini was an escape artist, he didn’t read minds. And secondly, it doesn’t work like that, I can’t just _read minds_. It’s more like looking into your life through a window, if that makes sense.”

Louis' laughter chokes off and he stares at him, mouth parted. “So you’re for real about this, then.”

“Utterly. I wouldn’t lie to you,” Harry assures, his big eyes going even wider. Louis coos at the innocence in his voice. Harry pats Louis’ arm then. “I can show you. I just need something of yours to hold on to, to help me.”

Louis nods and looks around himself. They’re in Harry’s dorm, so there isn’t anything readily available of Louis’ other than the items he’s brought with him. “I used your gloves before, the ones you left at the library when we first met," Harry explains. “You’d dropped them on the floor and I’d picked them up when I got there. I didn’t know they were yours until I saw the visions. I was holding them in my lap the whole time, you just didn’t know. That’s how I knew your name, and about your tattoo and all that. That’s why I was staring at you. I just wanted to know you." Louis felt his cheeks get hot as he scrambled to find something for him to hold. Finally deciding to go with his gloves again, Louis scrambles to get them from inside his jacket sleeve before he shoves them into Harry’s grasp and sits back down beside him, waiting for Harry to do, say anything.

He watches as Harry clutches his fingers around the wool material of the gloves and stares at him, his eyes going glassy, just like that day in the library. A strange lull comes over the whole room and Louis can scarcely breathe. He can tell Harry isn’t really there, not anymore, he’s somewhere completely detached from right here on his own bed. Louis sits and waits, breathing hard, before Harry’s eyes close and then re-open, and he’s smiling, placing the gloves down in his lap.

Louis finally speaks then. “So?”

Harry takes a breath. “You have four sisters, and they’re all younger than you,” Harry spouts off, as if Louis had just told him the information. Except he hasn’t. He hasn’t told him anything about his family at all.

“Holy shit,” Louis gasps out.

“You also have a cat, he’s grey with a white belly. Your family home is nice, Lou. I like the wallpaper in the living room with the polkadots." Harry is still smiling and Louis feels like he’s going to fall over.

"You’re fucking me," he states, deadpan.

"Not yet," Harry cracks slyly, his smirk going crooked. 

Louis glares at Harry, eyes squinting until Harry smiles innocently and Louis decides to let it slide for now. “Either you’re one hell of a stalker or you’re a fucking psychic," says Louis, running a hand over his face in disbelief.

Harry looks down to smile at his hands. “I told you,” he whispers. “I’m a fucking psychic."

“Holy shit,” Louis repeats.

He’s going to need lots of alcohol to forget this.

But you see, the pesky little problem is that Louis doesn’t _want_ to forget. He wants to make Harry tea and snuggle up beside him because anybody with hands as big as his has got to be a good cuddler. And yeah, Harry still freaks him out a little, but Louis has to cut him some slack. The kid is psychic; he can’t help but know everything there is to know about Louis’ life without needing to be told. Something about that feels oddly comforting to Louis, or maybe it’s just because he already feels comfortable in general spending time with Harry. This is rare. He’s made a new friend, one he’s not afraid to be himself around because, he figures, what else is there to hide from Harry? Louis can already tell that Harry’s one of those people he can just connect with effortlessly and easily, and he wants Harry to stick around for a while.

Even if he did begin as a bit of a stalker.

————————

“Okay,” Louis says, voice wavering a bit as he looks at Harry across from him as they sit in a small pizza place later that evening. “Tell me right now, how the hell do you do it?”

Harry only shrugs, taking another bite of his pizza, and he looks very uninterested in the whole conversation that Louis wants to scream. He folds a hand over Harry’s wrist, pulling it away from his mouth, slapping gently so the pizza slice drops back down onto the plate. “No, tell me. I’m serious.”

At that, Harry exhales and closes his eyes, and Louis just sits there, watching his adams apple bob up and down and his cheeks, flecked with pink, move as the facial muscles contort under his skin right before he talks.

“I don’t really know how I do it,” Harry says finally, chewing on a bit of pizza still in his mouth. “I just do. I’ve been able to do it for as long as I can remember.”

“Okay,” Louis says, resting his elbows on the table. “What’s your earliest memory of…you know…doing it, then?”

Harry’s thinking, jaw clenching and unclenching and Louis thinks he’s never seen a guy do that unless he’s angry, but Harry’s a bit weird, isn’t he? Not that he doesn’t like Harry’s kind of weird, because he does, obviously, and very much so.

Harry gives up on his thinking and shrugs once again, going back for his pizza. “I guess…when I was a little kid, like really little, and my mum would buy me used toys because she couldn’t really afford new ones,” he states softly with a hint of embarrassment in his voice,“I’d be playing with the toys and suddenly I’d be able to see things.”

“See what things?”

“The same way I saw your family and your house when I held your gloves,” Harry explains. “When I held the toys, I’d be able to see who owned them before me. And I’d see their faces, like I was looking in a mirror. I’d see their parents, siblings, their bedroom, all kinds of things.” Harry took another bite of his pizza, completely unfazed, while Louis sat there trying to wrap his mind around Harry’s talent.

He scratches his face as he decides to bring up another point of discussion, something he hasn’t spoken about with Harry yet. “You got my snapchat from Liam, yeah?”

Harry nods. “Yeah. And I knew you knew him, because I saw you talking to him a couple days before the whole library incident."

“Oh.” Louis is almost blushing now. “So you…saw me before we met that day?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, eyes downcast. “And I thought you looked…interesting. So when I picked up your gloves in the library and saw you in the visions, I was…pretty excited.”

“Oh.”

Harry’s looking fully at the table now, a blush settling itself down his neck. “And then after the library thing, I ran into Liam and I asked for your snapchat username so I could add you. I know it sounds creepy, but-”

“No, it’s alright,” Louis smiles, feeling oddly flattered. Harry looks up seeing Louis smile and smiles back, warmly. A comfortable silence comes over the two boys.

Louis looks up then. “The pancakes,” he states plainly.

Harry flushes a bit more. “Yeah, I…I also saw you going there, to that diner, when I saw the visions of you. I still had your gloves then, so I was just trying to learn more about you. I saw the visions and just had a feeling that you wanted them. I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Alright, so-you sure you can’t read minds then?” Louis asks, his eyes downcast.

Harry looks up at him, smirking. “Already told you I can’t,” he says, a bit of a giggle in his voice. “Why, Lou? Thinking something you don’t want me to know?”

“What? Of course not,” Louis says defensively and it’s only half of the truth. His cheeks begin to tint pink and Harry just chuckles at him through a mouth full of bread and sauce and cheese.

“You’re cute when you blush,” he murmurs, and Louis smiles at him shyly as his blush only grows hotter.

And that’s the first time that Harry makes Louis’ stomach flop. That’s also the first time that Louis realizes he’s completely and utterly fucked.

————————-

“No no no no no,” Louis shouts, pacing about the room.

Liam looks up from where he’s seated at the couch, his phone in hand. “What is it now, Lou?”

“I think I have…” Louis started, shuddering. “…a _crush_.”

Liam shrugs, not looking up. “So?”

“So? So, I’m not _twelve_ , Liam, I’m a grown man!” Louis yells. “Grown men don’t get crushes like little schoolgirls.”

“Well, clearly you do,” Liam offered. “Wait, on whom would this crush be on, then?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Louis flops down beside Liam on the couch, all of his breath coming out at once. 

Liam gasps and wraps an arm around Louis. “Aw, Lou, is it me?” he teases, batting his eyelashes. Louis makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, playfully shoving Liam’s arm off of his shoulder.

Once Liam stops laughing, he looks at Louis seriously. “It’s Harry, isn’t it?”

Louis, who felt like melting into the couch and never resurfacing, said nothing, only answering Liam by giving him a slightly petulant-looking face and a groan. Liam only nodded at that, eyes back on his phone.

“You don’t even care,” Louis muttered, eyes downcast.

“No, I do. And in my humble opinion, I think you should tell him right now,” Liam sniggered.

Louis’ head shot up, eyes wide. “What.”

“Yep, right now, go call him up or snap him or something,” he says with a surprising hint of seriousness.

Louis rolled his eyes dismissively. “Stop being dumb.”

“Then stop acting like a schoolgirl and ask him out,” Liam offered with no hint of joking in his voice.

Louis sighs, defeated. “I don’t know how.”

“Seriously, do it via snapchat. It would be the cutest thing,” Liam suggests, shuffling around on the couch cushions until he’s laying down, arms beneath his head. “Really, I think you should.”

Louis only nods, soaking up the possibilities, thinking how Harry’s eyes would light up or how his lips would quirk into a smile at Louis’ words.

————————

It’s later that night, Liam has gone to bed and Louis’ fingers are shaking as he holds the phone in his hands. He’s laying across his bed, it’s 12:04 am and he can’t sleep. He’s sure Harry will be awake, because he knows from their late-night conversations that Harry doesn’t get to sleep until very early in the morning, or very late in the night, however you want to look at it.

So he sends him a snapchat, a picture of himself with the caption reading _you awake loser?_. No more than two minutes later, Harry replies with a picture of himself sticking his tongue out, that says _of course._

Okay, Louis thinks to himself. This is it, old sport.

He inhales deeply and goes to take a picture to reply, making a face that looks a bit like he’s pained or very constipated or both at the same time. With quivering fingers he types out: _do you wanna go out for pizza tomorrow?_ and hits send.

The minute-and-a-half it takes Harry to respond is possibly the worst minute-and-a-half that Louis’ ever experienced. He’s sweating and his stomach drops when he sees Harry’s reply.

 _louis tomlinson are you asking me out??_ Harry’s picture says. His face in the photo looks happy although he’s putting on an expression of mock surprise. Louis would slap him if he were there.

 _yeah i am you donut,_ is how Louis replies to that.

Two seconds later, his phone is not vibrating from a snapchat notification but from an incoming call. Louis’ brow furrows until he sees the caller I.D and he smiles, picking up immediately and answering with a “Hiya.”

Harry laughs breathily on the other end. “Hi. Are you being serious?” Harry’s voice sounds distant and muffled by static through the phone but Louis still catches the way it quivers the slightest bit.

“What do you mean?” He’s not trying to play dumb but he just wants to hear Harry say it out loud.

“About the date. Are you actually asking me out or are you joking?”

Louis ponders for a moment why Harry would ever think he would joke about something like that, but he answers anyways. “No, I’m not kidding, I wouldn’t lie to you,” he says, not a hint of sarcasm in his tone as he repeats what Harry so often says to him for reassurance. “Shouldn’t you already know that? You are the psychic one,” he jokes lightly, trying to soften the mood.

Harry exhales and Louis thinks he may have been holding his breath. “Believe it or not, sometimes genuine affection doesn’t translate well through snapchat,” he chuckles. “And you know I can’t read minds, you goof.”

“Yeah, I know, just like riling you up is all.” Louis is so fond of this kid it’s insane.

He can practically feel Harry’s blush. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you really wanna go on a date with me?” Harry’s voice is even more muffled now, almost as if he’s shoving his face into a pillow. Louis grins like an idiot.

“Yeah, I do.”

A moment later, all Louis hears in his ear is the dial tone. Harry hung up, it seems, but why is the question. He places his phone down, waiting for something, anything, to happen. In about a minute a new snapchat lights up Louis’ screen with Harry’s face; all hopeful green eyes and messy hair:

_ok but i should tell u something._

Louis could die. His veins feel like liquid fire is pulsing through them and his toes are going tingly because he hasn’t moved in nearly ten minutes. He has no time to reply before another snapchat comes though.

It’s Harry making a sheepish face and the caption says, plain as daylight: _i have a massive crush on you._

Louis nearly falls off his bed. He definitely feels like a twelve-year-old girl but he could care less. He pulls himself together long enough to send a smiling snapchat that reads _thats good cuz i have a crush on u too._ He tries to imagine how Harry’s face will look in response to that and he suddenly wishes that he was with the other boy.

He doesn’t have to imagine long because Harry’s reply comes through: _obviously cuz you asked me out._  
He’s sticking his tongue out again and he’s drawn a little pink heart in the corner.

Louis grins and snaps a photo: _ok now come here for cuddles._

 _really? now?_ is all Harry says back, his face looking confused. Louis should feel bad about beckoning Harry from his dorm on campus ten minutes away this late at night, but he just needs to feel the boy’s heartbeat, to be sure he’s real and isn’t going to evaporate before the sun rises.

Making a funny face, Louis snaps back: _yeah snapchat is getting a tad old i’d say._

A moment later, Harry texts, which is something they hardly ever do, with snapchat being sort of their little thing, their method of communication. 

be there in ten (12:26am)

Louis is definitely going to die now.

With a rapidly beating heart he slips out of his flat quietly and walks down the hall and the stairs to wait for Harry to get there. When he does, neither of the them speak, they just meet in the middle with flushing faces and a small, fond hug. Louis and Harry walk back up to Louis’ apartment in silence and go in without a word, just soft smiles. Harry follows into his room and the two lie down together on Louis’ bed, folding around each other in an effortless way. Louis sighs because he was right, Harry is so good at cuddling. He feels warm and fuzzy and _right_ with Harry’s chest pressed to his back, his hands coming around to wrap around Louis’ tummy protectively.

Louis holds into Harry’s arms tighter and a few minutes later Harry speaks, his voice rough and low, buried in Louis’ hair. “Louis?”

Louis hums in response, falling quickly into sleep but still aware that Harry’s talking. Harry shuffles a bit closer, tightening his hold on the slightly smaller boy in his arms. “Sometimes I can see the future, did you know that?" he mumbles into Louis’ soft scalp.

Louis shakes his head groggily. “No, never told me that, Haz," he whispers, sleep overtaking his voice.

"Yeah, I can. And that day in the library, in the visions of you…I saw this," Harry shares before he presses a kiss to the top of Louis’ head.

Louis smiles although his brain is foggy. “I’m glad I let you stalk me then.”

And that’s all he says before he falls asleep, Harry’s quiet, breathy laughter in his ear.


End file.
